


something in the air is telling me you could be my sidekick

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 01:58:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3673272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrinneyFriday/pseuds/mygalfriday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times the Doctor crashes River’s dates and one time she makes him pay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	something in the air is telling me you could be my sidekick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heavenisalibrary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavenisalibrary/gifts).



> For Alyssa. Story title from Sidekick by Walk The Moon.

 

_i.)_

 

Brutus is a douchebag. Mels knows he’s a douchebag. But he’s a douchebag with a hot car and a filthy reputation, both of which she happens to be unable to resist. She lets him take her to some seedy pub a few miles outside of sleepy Leadworth and they while away the night drinking too much, dancing too closely, and tucked away in a dark corner, letting their hands wander beneath clothes. 

 

She has teeth marks across her collarbone and finger-shaped bruises on her hips. There is cigarette smoke in her hair and a warm ache in her belly that only Brutus and his big hands will be able to rectify. He wraps a possessive arm around her waist as they sway drunkenly back to his car just before closing time, running out on their unpaid tab. 

 

Mels shoves his arm away with a wink and steals his keys, hopping into the drivers side. The tires squeal as she peels out of the car park and she throws her head back with a laugh, speeding all the way home with Brutus’ clumsy hand stroking her thigh. 

 

She parks at her place so she has the option of kicking him out in the morning – the obligatory walk of shame is a bit too undignified even for her. Together, they tumble out of the car and onto the pavement, hands gripping each other with the intention to bruise, their mouths just as violent as she pulls him into a greedy snog. Brutus kisses like she imagines he fucks – no finesse but plenty of Neanderthal enthusiasm. It’s good enough for Mels.

 

She hooks her fingers into the collar of his leather jacket, guiding him with stumbling steps toward her flat. They pause outside her door; Mels digging in her pocket for her key, Brutus biting and sucking his way down her throat, nudging his hips insistently against her thigh. Her fingers close around her key and the moment she pulls away to unlock the door, Brutus’ hands still on her hips, some bloke barrels down the pavement and right into them.

 

Brutus staggers, too drunk to find his balance, and lands hard on the pavement but the human tornado who had crashed into them keeps Mels on her feet with a gentle hand on her arm, already stuttering out an apology. “Oh no, I’m so sorry! Crikey, what a clumsy oaf I am. Are you alright?”

 

He’s looking at Mels, totally ignoring Brutus, who stares up at them in dazed confusion. Mels can’t blame him. It’s gone two in the morning but the man is still wearing sunglasses and she can tell by the way he fidgets that he isn’t entirely comfortable in his skinny jeans and White Stripes t-shirt. He’s tall and lanky, with hair that would be better placed on a ten year old boy.

 

She nods belatedly, brushing off his hand with a scowl. “Watch where you’re going, eh?”

 

Finally coming to his senses, Brutus lurches to his feet with a growl, taking a menacing step toward their assailment. “The fuck? You sodding arsehole -”

 

Christ. The overt aggression is getting a bit tiresome. Mels is starting to wonder if he’s trying to compensate for something. 

 

“Now there’s no need for that,” White Stripes says, suddenly looking like a surly grandfather. Most people cower around Brutus – the size of his biceps alone is usually enough of a deterrent – but this hipster twat leans right into his personal space with his lips curled into a sneer. Locking eyes with Brutus, he sniffs. “Been drinking, have you? Nasty stuff. Never saw the point.” His eyes narrow and Brutus actually looks a bit wary. “Weren’t driving, were you? That would be very stupid.”

 

“Erm.” Brutus blinks at him, then points over his shoulder. “She drove.”

 

Oh lovely. Throwing her under the bus with hipster granddad. _Douchebag_.

 

He turns on her now and though disapproval still lingers in the thin line of his mouth, something in his face softens as he asks, “Have you been drinking too?”

 

She has but she isn’t nearly as far gone as Brutus. Her alcohol tolerance is a hell of a lot higher than any human. Their strange assailant looks at her like she should feel guilty though and Mels bristles, frowning at him. “You a copper then?”

 

“Not technically, no.”

 

“Then it’s none of your business, is it, White Stripes?” She sneers. “Sod off.”

 

He mouths _White Stripes_ like he has no idea what it is even though Jack White is plastered across the front of his shirt. She watches in bemusement as he shrugs, the crinkle between his thin brows smoothing out, and finds herself wishing he would take off those horrible sunglasses so she can see his eyes. She wants to see them. Needs to, almost. The urge to snatch them off herself tickles at the back of her mind and makes her fingers twitch. 

 

“Just trying to look out for you,” he finally says, then sputters. “I mean, people. You as in _people_.”

 

He blushes.

 

Brutus snorts.

 

“Right,” Mels says slowly, taking a hesitant, almost reluctant step away from him. “Thanks for that. I’ll be on my best behavior from now on, granddad. Cheers.”

 

His mouth twitches, curling into a faint smile like he doesn’t believe her, like he knows she’s just trying to get him to go away. His hand curls into a fist at his side and she wonders if he’s having the same queer urge to reach out and touch that she is. It makes her hearts climb into her throat and she swallows, pointedly looking away with a scowl. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see him open his mouth to speak again but she never gets to hear what ridiculous thing he has to say next.

 

With an abrupt, disgusting heave, Brutus whirls from them and bends over the bushes outside her flat, throwing up every last drop of liquor he’s consumed in the last few hours. White Stripes looks faintly amused, wrinkling his nose. 

 

Mels groans, grumbling, “Well that killed the mood.” She kicks at Brutus’ booted foot with a frown. 

 

White Stripes looks inordinately pleased with this turn of events, clapping his hands together with a gleeful chuckle. “Well, I’ll just be off.” He reaches out before Mels can swat him away, tapping her on the nose. “Enjoy the rest of your evening. Oi, and no more drinking and driving.”

 

Dazed, she watches as he turns from her and pauses just long enough to pat Brutus awkwardly on the shoulder. “Bad luck, mate.”

 

Gazing after him as he lopes off down the street on long, gangly legs, still giggling to himself, Mels shakes her head and considers herself lucky the nutter didn’t try to force his way into her flat. Turning back to Brutus, she tosses him his car keys. They land at his feet and he looks up with a confused frown, vomit still clinging to his lip.

 

Mels wrinkles her nose.

 

“What? That’s it?” He wipes at his mouth with his sleeve. “Come on, babe. I’ll only be a minute.”

 

She snorts, turns on her heel, and shuts the door behind her.

 

_ii.)_

 

The menu at the Twilight Lounge is as bland and boring as her date for the evening but River is determined to at least give him a go. She tried the whole bad boy thing in her last body and it never worked out for her. In fact, not much of anything worked out for her in her last body. Not even what she’d been training her whole life for. Her mark still walks around, flouncing about the universe with a silly grin and a drooping bowtie. He makes her face flush pink and her hearts kick into overdrive. She can’t help feeling a bit pathetic about the whole thing.

 

But tonight isn’t about him. Or Mels. Tonight is about River going on her very first university date. Tonight is about River deciding for herself what she likes and what she wants. And what she wants is a date with someone who will pull out her chair for her and hold her hand without expecting to get into her knickers at the end of the night. After years of Mels’ tendency to date complete bastards, she deserves a gentleman. He stutters when he talks to her - which she admits is a charming, refreshing change - and actually listens when she speaks. And if he doesn’t seem to know the meaning of witty banter, well, she has to make sacrifices somewhere, doesn’t she?

 

River sighs and studies her menu.

 

“Hello!”

 

Eyes widening, she stares sightlessly down at her menu and feels her hearts skip a beat. It can’t be. 

 

“Welcome to the Twilight Lounge. Can I get your drink orders? Well, yours. Already know what hers will be. Judging by your age… Gin martini, right dear?”

 

This can’t be happening.

 

River swallows and forces herself to look up. The Doctor - dressed like a maitre d in black trousers, a white button down and a black vest - grins widely down at her, bouncing a bit on his toes. He’s here. Actually here. Taking her drink order. On her date. “What are you doing here?”

 

He leans in close, his nose nearly brushing hers. River inhales sharply in surprise, swallowing hard as she meets his gaze, and tries not to be affected by either the soft amusement in his eyes or the scent of time and custard that seems to linger around him like a cologne. “I’m undercover,” he whispers, putting a finger to his lips. “There’s talk of a Sontaran uprising. Very hush hush.”

 

She eyes him skeptically. 

 

“They’re very upset about the new item on the menu.” He taps at her copy and she glances down at it as he reads aloud. “Baked Sontaran. Not really a Sontaran of course, just a pun about their unfortunate resemblance to potatoes, but you know how sensitive they can be about these things. Well, maybe you don’t yet. Spoilers. Forget I said anything.” He beams at her. “Drink?”

 

“Gin martini,” she replies faintly, still staring.

 

His smile widens and he taps her nose fondly. “Knew it.” Turning to her date, who gapes at them in silence, the Doctor’s gaze cools substantially, his eyes hooded and disinterested. “And for you, son?”

 

Son.

 

He blinks like he doesn’t know he’s being insulting. River kicks at his ankle but his eyes twinkle in amusement as he steps just out of her reach. She glares. 

 

“Um.” Her date blinks, glancing between them again. “I’ll just have a water. With lemon.”

 

“What a good boy.” The Doctor pats him on the head, turning to River with a muttered, “Not your type at all, is he dear? Well, enjoy yourselves. And keep an eye on this one, lad - she’s armed.”

 

He scurries off with a lopsided grin and River turns reluctantly back to her date with a dazzling smile she hopes will distract him from any questions he undoubtedly has. “Well, since the Sontaran potatoes seem to be popular, why don’t we -”

 

“River, who was that?”

 

“Who?”

 

“Our waiter!” He stares at her, bewildered. “He called you _dear_. Do you know him?”

 

“No.”

 

“He certainly seemed to know you.”

 

“Well, you know what they say about raving lunatics -”

 

He sighs. “River.”

 

She deflates, tapping her fingers against the edge of the table in agitation. “He’s no one. Well, not at the moment. I suppose he’s going to be my husband in the future but right now, he’s just a nutter who’s serving our drinks, alright?”

 

He gapes at her. 

 

River snaps open her menu and proceeds to ignore him. “So, what do you think of the grilled salmon?”

 

After that, things are a bit awkward and she’s almost relieved when the Sontarans show up and declare war on the Twilight Lounge’s head chef. Gunfire erupts in the middle of dessert and River pulls her blaster out from beneath her short skirt, finding the Doctor in the middle of the chaos and providing the unarmed idiot with backup while he tries to negotiate a peace treaty with nothing but a sonic screwdriver and a banana daiquiri. 

 

Her date doesn’t wait around to take her home but the Doctor is all too happy to give her a lift in the TARDIS, apologizing profusely for ruining her evening all the while. He stutters beautifully and his hands fidget and he looks at her with wide, earnest hazel eyes. River drags him in by the collar and snogs him. All in all, it isn’t bad as far as first dates go.

 

_iii.)_

 

Itching for a change, River gives up trying to date a nice, boring university boy and tries dating a few androids instead. They’re rather rubbish. Almost as boring as the last bloke. After that, she has a brief fling with a Nestene Duplicate but the swappable head only keeps things fresh for so long. By the end of the affair, she's ready to go back to the beginning - dating a jerk with more muscle than brains. He’s the rebellious son of a time agent, hopping about time and space with his father’s vortex manipulator and a devilish grin River can’t quite manage to resist. 

 

Her university friends swoon over him, giggling and staring when he’s in the room and exchanging glances of envy when he wraps an arm around River’s waist and tugs her into her room. In some ways, it’s good. _Very_ good. But very good only extends to the thrill of zipping in and out of time with a stolen manipulator and the wild, frantic sex in between. The quiet moments are… lacking.

 

He doesn’t know how to hold her without gripping too tightly. He can’t kiss her without a bit of teeth. He doesn’t blush when she teases him or fidget when she leans in just a little too close. He takes no interest in his studies or hers. They have nothing to say to each other when they aren't between the sheets. Mels would have reveled in a man like Cain. River finds herself pulling away from him with every passing day. She likes a bad boy. She just… wants one who knows when to be good.

 

It doesn’t stop her from having a bit of fun while it lasts. When she joins Cain after the last of her evening classes on Friday, she has nothing but a carefree weekend of drinking and shagging ahead of her. They start off at the underground club Cain frequents and when they arrive, the _Blue Moon_ is already well into its Friday night swing. 

 

It seems every species on Luna is here tonight - androids and Slitheen, humans and digi-humans, Silurians and Cheetah people - crowded into the dark, humid club and all of them gyrating and moving to the pulsing beat. Cain presses into her back as they make their way onto the dance floor, his hands tight and bruising on her hips, his teeth sinking into her neck as he nudges into her arse. River pushes back against him, a smile curling her lips that drops instantly when she lets her gaze drift toward the bar.

 

The usual bartender is absent tonight and in his place is a man who has no business being near such a large amount of glassware. The Doctor wears an apron and a goofy grin as he mixes and serves drinks with ease, chatting to customers and accepting tips with a surprised but delighted little nod. River feels her stomach drop to her toes. Cain's hands on her hips suddenly feel like lead weights.

 

She pushes him away before the Doctor spots them. Not that it matters if he sees. She’s perfectly within her rights to do whatever she likes with whomever she pleases. But right now, she doesn’t please. That’s all. 

 

“River?”

 

She smiles at Cain, brushing a hand over his stubbled jaw. “I’m going to get a drink,” she purrs, taking care not to lean in close enough to let him pull her in again. “Stay here and miss me, hmm?”

 

He turns his head, licking her wrist.

 

A moment ago, that would have made her shudder with desire. Now, she quickly snatches her hand back and feels her smile turn wooden as she backs away and escapes to the bar, wiping her wrist on her shirt as she goes. Damn him. Damn him and his stupid face and his infuriating tendency to turn up when she least wants to see him.

 

She marches right up to the bar, shoving people out of the way as she goes and ignoring grumbles about waiting her turn. The fiery rage in her eyes keeps anyone from protesting too loudly as she cuts in front of them. When she reaches the bar, the Doctor doesn’t seem surprised to see her which only incenses her further. 

 

“River!” He beams. “What’ll it be? I’ve gotten very good at making those drinks with the little umbrellas -”

 

Leaning over the bar, River doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. She grasps him by the bowtie and hauls him close, barely blinking at his squeak of surprise. “What are you doing here?” She pauses, frowning. “Please tell me there isn’t another Sontaran uprising.”

 

“River, honestly.” He wriggles out of her grasp with a few nervous twitches, slumping against the bar when she lets him go, his bowtie rumpled and his apron askew. “It’s nothing like that. I’m just covering for Sam. He quit this afternoon, you see. Won the lottery.”

 

She narrows her eyes at him. “What a lucky coincidence you were here to take his place.”

 

He beams. “Funny how things work out. And look, you’re here! Blimey, you’re young -”

 

“Don’t you dare pretend you didn’t know I was going to be here and exactly how old I was going to be, Doctor.” River glowers at him. “This is the second time you’ve interrupted one of my dates and my memories as Mels are a bit fuzzy but I’m almost positive you -”

 

“Oi, I am not ruining your date!” The Doctor huffs. “I’m working, River. I can’t help it you left whatever fascinating specimen you’re with at the moment to come over here but that was your choice. I didn’t make you!”

 

River stares at him, mouth still open to berate him further.

 

He’s right, damn him. Damn him to hell. She was the one who had left Cain standing on the dance floor the moment she spotted the Doctor behind the bar. She was the one who left her date last time to stand at the Doctor’s side and be his gun arm during negotiations. She had been the one to ignore Brutus and leave him puking in the bushes because the hipster granddad in the White Stripes t-shirt kept smiling at her like he knew her. She’s always the one to leave, to follow after him like he’s the pied bloody piper and she’s the only one who can hear the music.

 

Hearts in her throat and refusing to acknowledge what any of it means, River struggles to keep her glare fierce and threatening but the Doctor only blinks back at her, unconcerned. Fuming, she bites out, “I’m leaving.”

 

“Fine.” He crosses his arms over his chest and sniffs at her. “Go on then. Toddle off to Hamlet or Lucifer or whoever the latest fellow with daddy issues is.”

 

With one last snarling glare, River stalks back to Cain, who is exactly where she left him a few moments ago, dancing with a sorority girl with tentacles. He turns when River reaches him, abandoning the tentacled girl to frown at her. “Where’s your drink -”

 

She cuts him off with a firm hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down to her for a searing, open-mouthed kiss. He groans, hands sliding down her back and over the curve of her bum, yanking her into him. She feels the heat of the Doctor’s gaze on the back of her head but she pays him no mind, barely giving Cain a moment to breathe as she kisses him and kisses him, until she’s dizzy and more than a little aroused. 

 

He drops his head to her throat, nipping and sucking with fervor, hands on her abdomen as River turns around and presses her arse against his groin. He isn’t exactly the sharpest specimen River has ever dated but he catches on quickly enough, moaning into her neck and slipping a hand under her top as she grinds slowly against him. She shuts her eyes. His breath is hot on her skin and his hands are calloused and without a hint of tenderness as he strokes his fingers up her waist. 

 

Once upon a time, this would have been enough.

 

She opens her eyes, unable to resist just a little peek. She knows he’s still watching and one glance at the bar proves her instincts correct. He’s gazing at her unashamedly, that wide-eyed, kicked puppy expression he’s so terribly good at on his face. The moment he notices her looking back, he jumps and turns away quickly, fumbling with the glass in his hands and dropping it. It shatters on impact with the floor and he yelps, stooping to gingerly pick up the glass with a dish towel.

 

Even from here and over the music, River can hear him apologizing to the increasingly long line of customers waiting for their drinks. “So sorry. We’ll be back in business before you know it! Just give us a mo’.”

 

Feeling her brief moment of triumph fade away, replaced with the empty, slightly nauseated feeling in the pit of her stomach, River sighs and pulls away from Cain for the second time that night. His hands slip away and he watches in confusion as she leans in, dodging his biting kiss to press her lips chastely against the corner of his mouth. 

 

“I’ve got to go,” she says.

 

“What?”

 

She smiles and pats his leather-clad shoulder. “It was fun, Cain. And a few years ago, you would have been perfect.”

 

“River -”

 

She shakes her head, disappears through the crowded dance floor, and hops over the bar. The Doctor looks up with wide eyes as she joins him on the floor, brushing his hands away to pick up the rest of the glass herself. “Well come on then, time boy,” she mutters, refusing to meet his gaze. “Those drinks won’t serve themselves.”

 

She stays until closing time, serving drinks with a wink and a smile, buoyed by the Doctor’s little boy grin and shy, deliberate touches of his fingertips to the small of her back. 

 

_iv.)_

 

The new holographic 3D remake of Indiana Jones and the Robots of New New York is the perfect place to unwind after a long week of classes. River sits in the second row from the back with her date and quickly loses any interest in the plot. It’s difficult to pay attention to much of anything when her date has a slim, clever hand inching up the inside of her thigh. It’s another purely physical relationship but River finds it difficult to imagine a real relationship with anyone except the one she already knows she’ll have.

 

Funny, she’s done nothing but run from it - run from him - but when the time comes, she knows she won’t fight it. She doesn’t want to. It’s sort of nice, knowing somewhere in the distant future she’ll find peace. At least she thinks she will. The Doctor certainly has. She sees it every time he looks at her.

 

Sighing in frustration into her date’s mouth, River tugs at her hair and angles her lips harder against her own, determined to be in the here and now. She dwells enough on the idiot as it is. It just won’t do to start daydreaming on dates. Knowing him, he’d find out somehow and she has a feeling his ego is big enough. 

 

Jasmine presses a hand against the small of her back, drawing her closer, and River pushes her chest against hers with another, pleasanter kind of sigh. There’s something wonderfully divine about the soft curves of another woman against her own. River likes women. She likes their soft hands and sweet perfume, their silken hair tangling between her fingers. Women like to cuddle, she finds, and this body rather likes curling around another warm one to sleep. 

 

Jasmine wears bubblegum chapstick River likes to taste and wears her hair in a long, dark braid down her back that nearly begs to be played with. River strokes her fingers down her back, twirling the end of the thick braid around one languorous fingertip. Jasmine hums against her mouth, one hand sliding from her back to return the favor, gentle fingers inching into River’s curls.

 

The moment she touches River’s hair, there’s a loud, intrusive cough from the row behind them and then a voice that makes no effort to keep quiet. “Can you believe the CGI in this thing? Rubbish. You’d think it was the 42nd century, not the 51st.”

 

Growling, River wrenches her mouth away from Jasmine’s and whirls in her seat. The Doctor lounges in the seat behind her with a massive bucket of popcorn in his lap, currently shoving a handful into his mouth. Next to him, his current traveling companion Clara looks like she’d rather be just about anywhere else. She offers River a sheepish wave.

 

“River!” The Doctor exclaims around a mouthful of popcorn, cheeks puffed out as he smiles at her. “Fancy seeing you here.”

 

She ignores him, glaring. “What are you doing here, Doctor?”

 

_What are you doing here_ has started to feel like a greeting lately, replacing her usual _hello sweetie_. By the pout on the Doctor’s face, he’s noticed too and he doesn’t like it a bit. Good. 

 

“Taking Clara to the movies,” he says, still looking wounded. “She hasn’t seen this one. And some people actually pay attention when they pay ten credits to get into one of these things.” He sniffs, eyeing Jasmine with ill-disguised contempt.

 

Jasmine scowls at him. 

 

River lays a quelling hand on her arm and turns back to the Doctor. “And I’m supposed to believe you had no idea I would be here?” 

 

“Well of course I didn’t.” He stares at her hand on Jasmine’s arm and swallows a mouthful of popcorn. “How could I possibly have known where you would be? Luna is a big moon, River. And contrary to whatever you might think, I am not following you on your little dates. I’ve got a whole universe to visit!”

 

“Then why don’t you go _visit it_ ,” she hisses. 

 

He shoves the overflowing bucket of popcorn into Clara’s lap and leans forward with his elbows on his knees and he looks so incredibly smug River has flashbacks to hipster granddad and knows with absolute certainty that it _had_ been him. Interfering even then. “Make me.”

 

Clara puts her head in her hands, like she’s too embarrassed to be seen with him any longer. River takes advantage of her loose grip on the popcorn bucket, leaning over the seats to snatch it off her lap and dump it on the Doctor’s head, shoving the bucket down over his face and leaving him with a lapful of buttery popcorn. 

 

“Enjoy the movie, Doctor,” she snaps, and snatches up Jasmine’s hand in her own, dragging her out of the theatre. For a few days, she thinks that might actually be the end of it. Maybe the idiot has finally learned that being a jealous, overbearing future husband is doing nothing to help his chances later. For a few days, she enjoys Jasmine’s soft hands and dark hair and warm body curled around hers for afternoon shags. 

 

It takes a week before Jasmine gets a lucrative job offer and drops out of university.

 

She doesn’t write. 

 

_i.)_

 

For a while, River focuses on her studies. She has never needed to before but it’s a nice distraction from the traitorous whispering of her hearts telling her she should be more angry about his meddling. She should hate him for trying to make another decision for her. So why isn’t she? _Perhaps_ , her hearts whisper, _because none of them ever truly meant anything_. Even Jasmine had been nothing more than a sweet distraction from what was always screaming in her blood. No one will ever fit her but him.

 

Which of course, doesn’t mean he won’t pay dearly for meddling the next time she sees him. She bides her time waiting, burying herself in her studies, catching up on her reading and finishing her papers well before they’re due. 

 

Professor Orville is so impressed with her work this semester he asks her to lunch and River agrees to meet him with a smile, already plotting exactly what she’ll wear. They’re in the middle of discussing the merits of 21st century postmodern architecture over the cafeteria’s Wednesday afternoon pot roast when the Doctor stumbles in with a bucket and a mop, like he could possibly pass himself off as a janitor. 

 

“So sorry,” he says with a jovial smile, shoving his sopping mop under her professor’s chair and forcing him to lift his legs. “There’s something sticky under your chair. Don’t mind, do you? Of course you don’t, old fellow like yourself. It’s all downhill if you fall and break a hip, eh?” He turns, flashing her a smile. “Hello, dear.”

 

River bares her teeth at him. “Hello, sweetie.”

 

She’s ready for him this time and she is in no mood to be merciful.

 

Glancing at her professor, River offers the older man a tense smile and says, “Excuse me, Percy. I’ll be just a moment.”

 

He smiles kindly, casting another uneasy glance at the Doctor. “Of course. Take your time, but I can’t promise I won’t eat your pudding.”

 

Grasping the Doctor around the wrist and forcing him to drop the mop, River says graciously, “Help yourself”, and drags her personal space stalker from the cafeteria. 

 

He follows her without much resistance and she can sense his eyes on her bum, entranced by the sight of her arse in denim cutoffs. They’re scandalously short, tight enough to hug the swell of her hips and the curve of her bum and vastly inappropriate. She’d chosen them specifically to render him mute for at least a few seconds so she’s rather pleased that he doesn’t find his tongue again until they reach the bathroom and she shoves him in. He stumbles. “Really, River, this is just rude -”

 

“Rude?” She snaps, slamming the door shut behind them and flipping the lock. She turns on him with a glare so intense his eyes widen and he stumbles back a step, right into the stall behind him. “I really don’t think you want to open that particular can of worms, Doctor.”

 

He frowns. “Me? I’m not rude. Last me was rude. Rude and not ginger. This me is -”

 

“A jealous idiot,” she snaps, shoving at his chest.

 

He cowers away from her, chestnut hair flopping into his eyes as he cringes. “Am not,” he grumbles. “What do you want with him anyway? He’s _old_.”

 

“ _You’re_ old!”

 

“Yes.” He tugs at his bowtie, looking smug. “Much older than him. And I don’t look it. I’m practically a dream, River -”

 

“Seriously? You’ve been crashing my dates since I was Mels, Doctor! There is nothing dreamy about possessive, jealous Time Lords who don’t know when to sod off.” He flinches when she takes a step closer, her voice raised and trembling with rage. She jabs a finger into his chest. “How dare you try to take away my choice. I did _not_ save your life so you could become my new keeper.”

 

His eyes widen and he gapes at her, that infuriatingly pretty mouth opening and closing but no sound escaping. “Wh-what?”

 

She pokes him again with a savage finger. “Do you really think this is going to make me choose you? Showing up every time I go out with someone else?”

 

“Well, I -”

 

“You already know you’re going to get me in the future,” she snaps, and he flinches away from her when she tries to jab him in the chest with a finger again. “What do you care what I do while I’m free to do it? What gives you any right -”

 

“River!” He finally manages, wrapping a hand around her wrist when she reaches out again. She growls, lashing out with her other hand but he captures that wrist too, calmly holding both of them to his chest, cradling them with a tenderness that seems entirely out of place in this little stall, with her rage swelling larger than life around them. “You’ve got it all wrong, dear.”

 

She blinks at him, chest heaving. “I do?”

 

He nods, then hesitates, flushing. “Well, I suppose I have been crashing your dates. And on purpose.” River struggles to escape his grip, ire renewed, but he holds on tight, his eyes soft as he looks down at her. “But I wasn’t doing it to take your choice away from you. I never thought - I never wanted -” He sighs, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, dear.”

 

River stops trying to escape his hold, resigning herself to being as close as he wants her until he decides to let go. She could get him to release her but not without hurting him and as angry as she is she doesn’t want that. Yet. “Well then what exactly were you trying to do?”

 

Red-cheeked, the Doctor lets his gaze flit over her shoulder, to the floor and back up to the ceiling again before he finally really looks at her with a sigh. “I just wanted to look after you.”

 

She thrusts out her chin, narrowing her eyes. “You wanted to make sure no one else was playing with your favorite toy.”

 

“What? No!” He blusters, looking offended and trying to flail his hands only to realize he’s still holding her wrists. He sighs heavily and deflates, ducking his head to peer at her through his fringe. “River, there was a time when the thought of being with you was terrifying to me.”

 

She swallows, wondering if he can feel her racing pulse beneath his fingertips. “And now?”

 

He eyes her for another long moment, his thumb brushing softly over the inside of her wrist. “I can’t stand the thought of you with anyone else.” He flushes, avoiding her gaze again. “And I know that makes me a jealous, possessive idiot but I never meant -”

 

She doesn’t know why she does it. Maybe it’s the way his fingers tremble as he holds her wrists or maybe it’s the earnestness in his voice. Maybe it’s the way no one else has ever wanted her quite the way the bumbling, ancient man in front of her does. Maybe she’s just finally tired of running. Whatever the reason, River shuts the Doctor up with a hard, eager kiss and he doesn’t seem to mind one bit. 

 

Bless, he’s practically a puddle at her feet the moment she touches him, a firm hand on his cheek guiding his mouth slickly against her own. He melts right into her, hands releasing her wrists to cup the back of her neck. He makes a soft noise against her lips as she slips her tongue into his mouth, sounding more like a helpless boy instead of a mighty Time Lord. It makes her feel powerful and River has always relished having control, whatever form it took. 

 

She pushes his coat from his shoulders, pleased when it drops to the floor without a hint of protest from her darling virgin Time Lord. His braces are next and still, he doesn’t stop her. He just keeps kissing her. There’s something to be said for having a partner who doesn’t need to breathe. One deft flick of her wrist and his trousers are undone. She smiles slyly against his mouth and tugs at his pants, delighting in the way he finally parts from her lips to release a ragged whimper.

 

Closing a hand around the warm, heavy weight of him, she breathes, “It wasn’t a date.”

 

The Doctor doesn’t respond right away, hazel eyes glazed over as she swirls a thumb around the head of his erection, slick and sensitive. His lips part in a soundless moan and she smirks, watching him drop his head to her shoulder. “ _River_ -”’

 

“Hmm?” She hums, pumping her hand down and then back up, squeezing as she goes and relishing his bitten off groan, guttural and needy. “What is it, sweetie?”

 

He buries his face in her hair and his breath trembles against her skin. “N-not a date?”

 

She shakes her head, swirling her thumb over the head again and gathering up the moisture welling there, slicking it up and down his length. When she pumps her hand now it’s slippery and filthy and exactly what he wants, judging by his quiet, pained gasp. “He's my professor, Doctor. I was meeting him to discuss my final project.”

 

She can tell by the way his eyes flutter against her ear that he’s struggling to pay attention even as her fingers tease at his balls, cupping and tickling and stroking until his knees nearly give out. “But -” He grits his teeth. “The shorts. The shorts always mean -”

 

“Spoilers.” She turns her head, nipping at his jaw. 

 

His breathing hitches.

 

River smirks. “And I had a feeling you’d turn up. I wanted to dress for the occasion.”

 

He lifts his head at the admission, mouth gaping as he realizes this time, she had gotten the best of him, but it’s hard to find the words for him to protest when she has a fist wrapped around his cock, pumping up and down, flicking her wrist, rendering him utterly senseless. Pupils blown wide, he mutters something unintelligible and nudges his hips eagerly into her hand, his eyes wide and adoring. 

 

“River,” he whispers again. “My River.”

 

“So certain I’m yours,” she teases, hoping she doesn’t sound how she really feels about the absolute conviction in his voice - terrified. 

 

“You are,” he pants, and his dark eyes sparkle with something too bright and pure to be just desire. “But I’ll tell you a secret, River Song.” His mouth brushes her forehead, a sweet gesture so entirely out of place in this bathroom stall with her hand slick and sticky on him that River falters, her fingers slowing to a stop as he breathes into her hair, “I’m yours too.”

 

With a sharply drawn in breath, tears pricking her eyes, River tilts her head up and kisses him again, if only to keep him from seeing the new softness in her gaze. She moves her hand again as his tongue slips inside her mouth - hard and fast and so slick. She brings him right to the edge, right when his hips are bucking into her every touch and every slide of his mouth over hers is punctuated by a strangled moan, before she stops. 

 

The Doctor whines low in his throat.

 

River smiles, kissing his chin as she retreats. “Sweetie?”

 

Still half-gone, the Doctor blinks at her. “Hmm?”

 

“Interrupt one of my dates again and I’ll make sure this -” She squeezes him until he squeaks, eyes widening. “Never feels anything again. Got it?”

 

His breath leaves him in a rush as she releases her grip on him, not looking nearly as threatened as he should considering she means every word. Instead, his eyes look a touch darker than they had only a moment ago, like the thought arouses rather than repels him. Oh but he’s just as twisted as she is. She shouldn’t like that. “You bad, bad girl.”

 

She bites her lip. She sort of does.

 

Well, no need to let that little secret slip.

 

River fluffs her hair, wipes her slick hand on his shirt, and steps out of the stall, leaving him with his trousers around his ankles and his erection neglected and unsatisfied, angry red between his legs. “Still running, then?”

 

She glances over her shoulder when she reaches the door, unlocking it. “Going to catch me?”

 

Gripping his trousers around his waist, braces still hanging limp at his sides, the Doctor beams at her like she hasn’t just left him naked and wanting in a bathroom stall, like he isn’t so hard it hurts. “Always.”

 

River leaves him there, heading back to the cafeteria and her waiting professor, but she smiles the whole walk back. For once in her life, she looks forward to being caught.

 


End file.
